Rolex
by R9-regrin9
Summary: A boy picked up off the street has showed no signs of mutation, tests have come up negative and he's been adopted by a barren couple, but is he really not a mutant? Or does he not even know it himself? Please read and Reveiw. Thanks!
1. Chapter One A New Life

CHARACTER PROFILES:  
  
Main character: Rolex Mother: Susan Father: Carl  
  
Prologue  
  
The year is 2199. 20 years since the first Earth Law was placed and only 5 years since the fourth World War which broke the Earth Laws in every way. These Earth Laws were placed to the soul purpose of saving Earth itself, agreed upon and signed by all the nations of the world. But as humans tend to do, they made the mistake of believing everyone would follow these Earth laws in hopes of keeping our species alive. Scientists were long past the stages of exploring space, and were in a desperate race to find the next stable planet, or one that was would serve us as our world does.  
Against the wishes of the UN, the United States of America, used an untried weapon in that later stages of war, releasing it, when it was obvious that they were already going to win. It was this final step that destroyed the last of our ozone layer allowing the harmful UV rays to enter our atmosphere and quite literally, create a medical crisis. As a result, mutations began showing up in developing children that were exposed to the rays for long periods of time - namely the street kids who had no shelter. Most of the mutations resulted in death, but there were the odd few that mutated and lived.  
  
Chapter 1  
  
The boy was hardly big enough to be on the team, but the Coach just ticked the name off the list and continued passing through the large group of boys, checking their names of the sign up sheet. The fact that the kid was standing alone from everyone else didn't seem to register in the coach's mind, nor how he quietly observed his joyous teammates. This was the first try-out session of the new city Metro team; the best of the best of the surrounding area.  
A whistle sounded and the eager kids set off after the coach to begin the drills. Rolex followed at a more sedate pace. Jogging slowly after the gaggle of boys sprinting ahead - they were all trying to impress the coach with their speed - he knew that to start off so quickly would only result in injury. And injuries only seemed to lead to more problems in the future. He didn't want that after starting his life anew, it would only ruin what little hope he had for his future.  
  
* * *  
  
"I just want to warn you, Rolex is different. He's one of the many street kids we pick up and bring to the orphanage. Now don't you worry, we only take kids who haven't been affected. We also don't tolerate the ones who cause trouble."  
The smiling couple linked hands. Barren, they'd decided to adopt and had come to the Agency in hopes of finding the perfect child - perfect in their eyes.  
"He's a little quiet, but very brilliant as shown in his tests. And speaking of tests, we had him checked for any change in him, after all he had been living on the streets for some time, but we found him to be perfectly normal; nothing seems to be wrong with him."  
The couple nodded and continued smiling.  
"As for the information you need to know about him, here's a paper that covers the main points: NAME: 'Rolex' this was the name he gave to us when he came here. He refused to be called anything else.  
  
AGE: 12  
  
SEX: Male HERITAGE: Caucasian EDUCATION: None We find this very interesting. He's had no formal education, yet he knows things that no normal boy his age would. I suspect that it's from his life on the street. I don't know, but he'll be able to attend his grade this fall when school starts up. He's a regular genius, but his tests.they show that he's above average for his age. We just recommend that you put him in with his age."  
The woman, tears standing up on spiked lashes, asked breathlessly, "Can we meet him?" As in answer to the question, a small boy stepped through the door from the adjoining room. Thin and straggly, he appeared in rough shape and in dire need of getting some flesh on his bones.  
Rolex hesitantly looked up into the faces of his "to be" parents. They seemed to look nice enough, maybe more?  
The man cleared his throat, but smiled. The break in the silence sent the woman into action and she immediately dropped to her knees to hug the small child.  
Although Rolex didn't outwardly react or show any emotion, his heart sighed and the thought flickered through his mind, at last, someone to love, someone to fill the missing space.  
  
The woman, turned her seat around so that she could face the lone boy in the back seat. His eyes roamed the passing scenery and it suddenly dawned on the woman that he was possibly seeing, searching for familiar things or even people. She intently watching his face, waiting for a reaction that would show some recognition, but she was sorely disappointed if she were expecting anything. She waited for long period of time for Rolex to look her way in acknowledgement, but he never did. Whether he was ignoring her or just plain oblivious, she never knew and disheartened she rotated the seat again till it was facing the front of the vehicle. Her husband glanced sympathetically her way and reached over to pat her hand. Glancing the screen showing the back seat, he flipped a switch to raise the sound barrier. Only then did he feel free to speak aloud. "He has to adjust. Just let him be for a bit."  
The wife smoldered a sob with a hand, "It's just that he's so perfect. A little angel. I don't know what to do, I don't know how to be with him. I'm not a mother!" she wailed.  
The man replied softly, "You'll be the perfect mother. Look at you, you're a loving person, there are none better to make into mothers."  
"You serious?"  
Her husband smiled softly, and replied, "Have I ever been not?"  
She smiled back tremulously, "Thank you, Carl."  
  
Rolex looked through the glass that had risen to separate him from his new parents. Immediately, he'd sensed a feeling of loss. He knew that he'd done something wrong, but he didn't know what. He saw the lady's tears and how she wiped them away quickly. A worried frown grew and he bit his lip, I don't know what to do. I'm not good enough. I don't know how to act. I've never had parents. He wanted to cry, but he had learned long ago that crying got you no where and so he didn't.  
The glass rolled down and he was able to hear the sounds from the front again, but he kept his eyes facing his side window. Out of the corner of his eye he could see his mother watching him again, sniffling every now and then.  
They were entering an opulent area of city where trees and lawns were finely trimmed into impeccable pieces of art. They passed a school, a small corner store, a park and finally, a soccer field. Rolex leaned forward, pressing his nose to the window to get a better look of the kids running around on the field.  
For the first time, Rolex turned to face the woman, "Can I play soccer?" They were the first words he'd spoken since he'd met them.  
Startled, first by the fact that her son had actually turned to look at he and second, that he spoke to her, sent Susan into tears again. She reached back and took Rolex's hand, "Of course. Anything you want."  
  
"Rolex? What kind of name is Rolex?"  
Rolex sighed, no matter where you went, people always asked the same questions.  
Kids started laughing and a bold one shouted out, "Hey, this kid is named after a watch!"  
Shaking his head slightly, Rolex tried to push through the crowd that had circled around him, but before he could, he sensed something coming at him from behind and quickly ducked. Whatever the flying missile had been, it hit the boy in front of Rolex squarely in the face. Everyone fell silent.  
Rolex anxiously looked around him at the now glaring faces. Before they had stared at him in jest, but now. Balancing on the balls of his feet he readied himself, he could see it the face of the boy who had been hit. The kid was angry.  
"You look like a scared rabbit. Cornered and stuck!"  
"You're dead!"  
Rolex knew how to fight. How could he have lived on the streets and not know? It was the key to survival. He'd been lucky, he had always had fast reflexes, plus he'd always been able to predict the moves of his opponents. Thinking back to his last fight, Rolex recalled how the kid he'd been up against had been half the size of the boy before him, but twice as dangerous. Kids on the street didn't fight for no reason, they fought for their lives - food.  
The boy in front of him was obviously considered a tough guy, for kids immediately started cheering him on.  
"Beat the crap out of the sucker!"  
"Pound him!"  
"Make him eat dirt, Brad."  
Brad, the boy, smiled cruelly, and sneered, "Come on! Put 'em up!"  
Rolex did and began circling his opponent. Out of respect of the fight to come, the onlookers backed off, but still held the circle so he couldn't escape. He wasn't going to get away without having to lay the boy a few punches. Brad swung first, but Rolex easily avoided the hit, ducking under the swinging arm. Cheers went up and they began to chant Brad's name. Again Brad jabbed out a heavy fist and again, Rolex evaded it. This continued for some time, Brad striking out, and Rolex eluding the punches. Finally, when Brad was starting to get really angry, Rolex quickly crouched down beside the larger boy and swung his leg through Brad's calves. All this happening before Brad could even comprehend what was happening. Brad fell with a heavy thud and grunted as the wind was knocked out of him. Rolex jumped on top of the kid and dealt out a couple of quick blows to render Brad unconscious. Then standing, he looked down on his pathetic adversary, there was nothing scary about Brad now. He'd been revealed; a big bully who was all mouth. Spinning on his heal, Rolex faced the quieted crowd. They gaped. In all their few years of living, they had never seen anything like this. Previously, in any fight, the two fighters would face each other and mostly yell at the other. As Rolex walked forward, they gave him a wide berth and flocked to Brad's side. Rolex had conquered.  
  
"I don't know what to do with him!" Susan bemoaned to her husband a few weeks after the fight. "He's been in three more fights since the one incident on the first day of school!" Carl, marked his place in his book and set it aside, he wasn't going to get much further in it tonight, "Has he won?" Susan sat upright to look at her husband, "Carl, can't you be serious?!" "Well?" She lay back on her pillows, "Well if you must know, he's been laying them flat on their backs. And these are kids that are older and bigger than he is, too! I've talked to him, but he never says anything to me." Carl rolled over to face his distressed wife. This boy, though troublesome, obviously meant a lot to her. He could see it in her eyes, despite the boy's lack of affection towards her, she was beginning to love him more and more. "Perhaps another-" She cut him off and replied in a harsh tone, "Don't you even finish that thought. Rolex is just having difficulties fitting in." "But Susan, he's not fitting in here, he's not fitting in at school, does he fit anywhere but on the streets? I mean, if the shoe fits, can we force him into something that doesn't?"  
  
Out in the hall, Rolex silently crept away from the door. He'd been on his way from the bathroom when he'd heard their voices filter through. What he heard, cut him like a knife, he couldn't help it if kids wanted to fight him. They kept at him until he struck back. He only finished them to ensure that they'd never come back to hurt him.  
A tear rolled down his cheek and he touched the wetness curiously. He'd never cried before. So why was he beginning to now? He didn't want to lose this chance at love, at a family.  
  
Susan flipped onto her side, her back to her husband, "Forget it. Forget I said anything. I'll figure a way out to get him to talk to me."  
Carl reached out and began rubbing her back in small circles in hopes of relaxing her stiff form. He thought for a moment, and after a time he said quietly, "Get him into soccer. He said he wanted to play. Get him into soccer. If he proves to be a good player, then he'll earn respect from others. And hopefully open up. Get him into soccer."  
Susan smiled softly. She'd been hesitant to have him join a sport where he would know no one, but now it seemed like a key to all her problems. Yes, soccer. Rolex wanted to play soccer. She curled up next to her husband and kissed him gently on the cheek. Carl just hugged her closer and closed his eyes. Content that he'd solved a problem, he was personally satisfied also. He was glad that Susan didn't want to give Rolex up. He didn't either, Rolex intrigued him.  
  
* * * "Down for twenty!" Coach Jim hollered out and kids everywhere dropped like flies to the ground to do twenty push-ups. "Up again and another three laps around the field."  
Some of the more foolish boys groaned and were rewarded with a sharp rebuke, "What? Tired already? We're not even ten minutes into this and you're tired?"  
The kids shook their heads vigorously, while the others snickered. Coach Jim turned to them, "Did I say you could laugh? From this point on, you do what I say when I say. Got it? I'm not out here to waste my time with childish games. We're here to play soccer and to be the best." He pointed to a distant tree in the covered park, "Now, run to that tree and back, and then your three laps - and this time, don't sprint, take it easy like this kid here," he pointed to Rolex.  
Rolex felt eyes fall upon him, but he refused to buckle; he could already hear the whispers about him circulating through the throng of kids. Brad was here, he would tell all that Rolex was a bully. He would ignore them, but a little voice inside his head screamed at him to acknowledge the stares. He needed to make friends, not enemies. This was not the street where he could possibly be staring at an enemy over food. These were sophisticated people. So he shyly smiled at some.  
Fortunately, coach yelled at them to get moving before they all turned to statues.  
When they returned from around the tree and the three laps, Coach Jim had already set up three drills and over the panting kids, he divided the boys into three groups.  
  
"You've never played soccer before, have you kid?"  
Rolex turned to see whom Coach Jim was talking to and was startled to find the man's insistent gaze fixed on himself. Slowly, he shook his head, uncertain of how to react. "No, sir."  
Coach Jim grinned, "'Sir', I like that." He paused to rethink Rolex's answer, "Never?"  
Rolex shook his head.  
The man's grin doubled, "Well, no problem. Right now, I'd say you're in the best position. Moldable. You'll do, though not necessarily for this team."  
Rolex wasn't sure if he liked Coach Jim or not. He'd been put into a predicament, now he had the coach's favour, but the rest of the team's scorn. He would have a star beside his name and they hated him for that, considering the fact that they hadn't even seen what he could do with a soccer ball.  
The boy at the head of Rolex's line picked up the ball, looked at it thoughtfully, then tossed it forcefully at Rolex. Rolex had sensed the ball coming before he even saw it come at his chest and caught it easily.  
"Let's see what you can do," other kids snickered and Rolex had the distinct feeling that he was being put to the test. He looked at the faces of the others, absorbing each of their expressions; they all added up to smugness.  
"What do I have to do?"  
The head boy rolled his eyes in an exaggerated fashion, "Can you believe this kid?" Then to Rolex, "If you'd been listening then you'd know what to do. So go on, you're up."  
Rolex dropped the ball to the ground, trapping and steadying it. He rolled it around under the ball of his foot, getting the feeling of the strange toy. He'd often watched kids who'd been lucky enough to find such a treasure on the street. They'd done so much with it, now he wondered if all those hours of watching had actually come to anything. Glancing at the other two groups beginning to work through there drills, Rolex incorporated their moves to mind.  
Whispers behind him finally broke through his thoughts, "Is he stupid?"  
Rolex smiled to himself and tapped the ball forward with his left foot and dribbled through the set up cones perfectly, as if he were a natural, then back again.  
The boy who'd first challenged him began laughing, "Whoa! This kid figured it out! Dribbling through the cones, with an extra flare I might add. All those whirls and fakes." His voice hardened, and he bit out as if he were talking to an idiot, "Geez. You make a simple drill look like something ten times harder! Dribble through the cones, simple as pie."  
The boy shook his head and took the ball from Rolex's feet and began in earnest dribbling through the cones at a quick pace - faster than Rolex, faster than most kids. But Rolex wasn't worried, he knew that it was the other boy who was worried. Worried that Rolex could easily be as good as him.  
  
The boy, who'd given Rolex a tough time, watched the new kid indifferently, but whenever he thought no one was looking, he'd watch Rolex. This Rolex was an enigma to him. A person of obvious talent, such as his, always boasted of it, but Rolex didn't.  
Tony shook his head, he didn't need this kind of distraction.  
  
Coach Jim's whistle sounded loud over the indoor field, motioning for the boys to gather round where he stood. He shouted to the boys lagging behind at the back to run faster, adding a threatening or else to it. A common enough threat, by Rolex's mind; it was when they actually put words and ideas to those threats that you had to worry. An empty threat meant an empty head and weak person - a show of bravado, nothing else. But the threat worked and the boys raced each other in.  
Coach Jim launched into verbal instructions of what was to be done for the next half-hour or so. During this time Rolex observed which boys sucked up to the coach by pretending they understood his complex words and which busied themselves with poking one another or playing with shoelaces. It was while Coach Jim grabbed a ball and demonstrated the drill, that Rolex kept his back unintentionally to him.  
The coach noticed this and barked out, "Rolex, get up here and let's see what you can do!"  
Rolex turned to face the angry coach, he was obviously being goaded into saying that he hadn't seen what had been done, but he merely smirked and stood, jogged over to where Coach Jim stood with the ball. Rolex's smirk grew into a genuine grin, the coach didn't know that Rolex had always been aware of his surroundings, didn't know that Rolex had been following the drill all along.  
Looking at the laid out cones and accessories, and the awaiting goalie standing in net. Rolex set the ball on the ground and bounced on his toes a few times, then he launched himself into the drill. Kicking an accurate pass to the flipped over bench, he quickly stepped through the ladder lain on the ground, received the ball that had bounced off the bench. Then stopping the ball, he sprinted to the two cones laid out and back to the ball, after which he dribbled through the cones, and finally took a hard shot at net. The ball flew fast and true past the goalie and into the upper right corner.  
Rolex heard the cheers of the boys, his future teammates, and felt a bursting sensation. He'd never had had recognition of this sort before, it was a new experience for him and he beamed, his grin splitting his face and spreading to the others as he neared. The only one who didn't smile back was Tony, but Rolex didn't care, he'd soften him up later.  
Coach Jim couldn't help but gawk slightly. Here he'd been certain that Rolex had not been paying attention, and instead had him prove to be paying more attention than he thought. He shook his head, not only that, Rolex had proven to be an excellent soccer player despite never having played before. He walked over to him and patted him on the shoulder, he couldn't find anything to say to fault him and just said that he'd done a good job.  
  
That night over dinner, the Robinson's ate in their usual silence, the only sound was the clink of the cutlery hit the plate now and then, but then out of the blue, Rolex blurted out, "Soccer is great! I think I'm earning the respect of some of the guys."  
Susan started violently at his unusual outbreak and accidentally knocked over her glass of water, but she ignored this and clung to every word that came out of Rolex's mouth. He had a youthful voice, melodic in his animation, "It's such an amazing sport! I've never played before, but I love it. I can't wait for the next trial night to come."  
Carl grinned slightly and wiped his mouth on his napkin, Rolex's meal left untouched as he continued on and on about his trials. For a boy who never had said anything before, he sure had saved it up. Carl stood and took away the other two's plates, knowing that they wouldn't eat.  
Resting her chin on her hands, Susan openly cried as her adopted son bled his thoughts freely. But as all good things do, the moment came to an end and Rolex yawned widely. "Well I've got to go to bed, g'night."  
Susan reached over to hug him, but Rolex was faster than her and evaded her grasp, he wasn't ready for that yet. He did allow Carl's pat on the shoulder as he walked by. Once beyond sight of his new parents, Rolex sighed. He felt like a great burden had suddenly been lifted from his shoulders, or conscious, and he felt livelier than he had for months. 


	2. Chapter Two The Taunting

Chapter 2  
  
"That's enough Brad." Tony had prevented Brad from swinging at Rolex.  
"Aw Tony, c'mon. The guy's a freak, a street kid - a streeter!" Brad whined.  
Tony shook his head and tightened his grip on Brad's fist. No words were needed, just the silent threat.  
Rolex opened his mouth to thank Tony, the soccer pro as everyone knew him as, but received an icy glare from the boy in question and he shut his mouth on the acknowledgement. Nothing had changed. Rolex had thought at one point that he and Tony would eventually become fast friends, but nothing ever came of it. Tony was ever quiet, like a lion sneaking up on its prey, never alarming the enemy until the last second. Tony was there, but he wasn't - standing right beside you, but for all the conversation in the world, never joining in. He listened, and only when necessary added a few mind-directing comments.  
Tony turned on Rolex, "And you.if you know what's good for you, you may want to quit living."  
Rolex snorted, "I may want to with a remark like that. You want to decode it for me?" A couple of the boys nearby snickered; the weekly ritual of the 'battle of the words'. It had never ceased from the first day at soccer trials.  
"You want to run that by me again?"  
Rolex shrugged, "Sure. I don't grasp the degree of your threat."  
Tony's fists clenched by his sides and he faced Brad once more, "Ok, so forget what I said."  
Brad grinned and took a step forward, rubbing his hands in glee, "I don't care if we have the tournament this weekend, I'm going to hurt you so bad this time you won't be breathing on your own at the end of this."  
Rolex grinned back at the angry face of Brad, "Too bad, Brad."  
Brad's fists lowered slightly, becoming slightly unnerved, "What now?"  
Cocking his head slightly to the side, Rolex's grin widened, "Bells' gonna ring." And sure enough, the bell went off, causing Brad to lower his fists to his side, aware now that the teachers were looking their way since they weren't moving to go inside. "How cliché is that? 'Saved by the bell'."  
Trotting by the gang of boys straggling back in, Rolex sighed in relief. Nothing ever changed. Day after day he was still the street kid. Nothing he did would ever change that. He was brilliant, athletic; perfect in every sense that a twelve year old could be. But everyone always blamed it on the fact that he was still a street kid.  
He'd been at school for a little over four months now; Christmas was just around the bend. In all the four months at school, he'd made nil on progressing forward in the friendship matter. He'd excelled in every subject, especially in athletics, his parents were so proud, but that didn't matter much to Rolex. What he wanted most were some friends.  
  
The teachers had long learned that you could never catch Rolex unawares. He being a streeter, everyone watched him with one eye, and not just the kids. Rolex could appear to be sleeping and still when asked a question out of the blue, he knew every detail. It was incredible. Some of the teachers loved him for studying so hard (what they didn't know was that Rolex had never studied for anything in his life), while other teachers despised him. Mr. Bordeau was no exception. To Rolex, it seemed that it was his life goal to find fault with Rolex.  
"Rolex, you're shirt is not tucked in. Tuck it in now!"  
Rolex looked at the other students filing into the classroom and into their seats. None of them had theirs tucked in. A slight frown creased his forehead and he let a little of anger show as he looked up into the ghoulish face of Mr. Bordeau. He'd learned long ago not to argue.  
"Yes, Mr. Bordeau."  
Mr. Bordeau looked down his nose at Rolex, making sure that he did exactly as he'd been told. "Hurry up Rolex, you're making the class late!" He pushed the boy off in the direction of his seat. Walking to the head of the class, Mr. Bordeau smirked and caught Rolex's eye before he began, "I'm sorry class, but as usual, our dear friend Rolex has made us all late again. I'd have him apologize to the class, if you don't mind the hold up."  
Many kids cheered at this form of entertainment, Brad guffawed loudly from his seat in the back.  
"Stand up, Rolex, and apologize to your classmates."  
Taking a deep breath, Rolex stood and gave the class a contrite smile. Then with a flare, and a devilish glint in his eye, he bowed and said in a grand voice, "My dear classmates, you have my most heartfelt apology.I mean, it's not every day that this happens to me." Giggles greeted the ludicrous comment, since it was exactly everyday that he was up and begging pardon from his class. "And so I feel that I must express my regret to each and every one of you."  
He proceeded through the list of his class members, "And finally, I get to Tony." He finished with Tony every time, hoping that he'd see some flicker of friendship there. Although he stated his apology in a comical fashion, he meant it from the bottom of his heart, "Tony, you are the idol I look up to everyday. The only person who I consider a friend." Here he added a little sniffle, "If you would accept my apology, then it'd make my whole day a whole lot brighter."  
Tony sneered and looked to Mr. Bordeau, "You idiot! Now you've gone and wasted half our class!"  
Mr. Bordeau nodded his agreement. Of course he hadn't bothered to interrupt him while he'd been apologizing to the class. "Go to the office, Rolex. That took much too long." He couldn't help but add, "Oh, and Rolex," when he'd gained the boy's full attention he continued, "Have a good weekend."  
Rolex raised a brow and quickly left the class, gladly obliging his teacher's directions to the office, this was where he usually spent his math classes  
Trudging down the halls seemed to take less time that usual, perhaps it was because Rolex had finally seen a change in Tony's face. Rolex couldn't help but grin.  
  
Rolex stepped off the bus and waved to his 'adopted' mother, Susan. She never failed to meet him at the bus stop to pick him up and he greatly appreciated that. It was nice to have someone look forward to seeing you, she and Carl were the only ones. His mind chastised him, don't forget about Coach Jim.  
Susan looked to her son, "Come on, I made your favourite dish."  
"Quiche!?" he exclaimed.  
His mother nodded.  
"Right on!"  
Susan couldn't quite figure out how such a kid could like quiche, she, herself despised the food, whereas Carl.well Carl she could never tell anything with. She rested her hand on Rolex's shoulder as they made their way to the vehicle. The car, the latest of Hyundai's hybrid hover series, seemed to sit on invisible wheels, floating there on an even more invisible breeze.  
"Can I open the doors mom? Please?"  
Susan laughed and handed him the remote. He took it gleefully and pressed a button, the doors slid effortlessly above and behind the top of the car. "Coooool!"  
"Ok, little star, time we get going. Only a few hours before the game time."  
  
Rested and excited, Rolex stretched his achilles and bounced on his toes, concerning himself on keeping warm in the change room rather than on the game ahead. This was the deciding game for the winner of the pool, unfortunately, as things often turn out with the drawing of teams for pools, the two best teams of the city ended up being in the same pool. How that happened, no one knew for sure, but there were two certain teams that were absolutely enraged about the matter.  
Coach Jim entered the room, his clipboard tucked under his elbow. "Ok boys, I know you hate this, especially knowing that we have to beat a team that we should be playing in the finals, but we have to win this game in order to move on. I'm proud of how far we've come this past year, especially considering the number of rookies," he nodded to Rolex, "whether you win this game or not, though, I'll still be proud of you. The key thing to remember, however, is that this team will want to win this game just as much, if not more, because they've been coming in second in all the standings to us all year. They're a tough team, there's no doubt about that, but we have the pride, the determination, the drive and definitely the skill to win this. No holding back. Now, do we want this!?"  
"YEAH!" came the reply from every boy, shouting out his frustration and nervousness.  
"Good, then that should be a lengthy enough speech." They giggled neurotically. Mentally Coach Jim shook his head and thought, damn, these kids were higher than a man on the moon. "Ok, then let's get this game going!"  
They charged out of the change room like bulls, their cleats clacking loudly on the cement as they ran down the hallway towards the stadium. Once they broke out onto the field many of the rookies paused to take in the hundreds of spectators filling the seats, thousands more were empty, but it didn't matter, the magnitude was still there. Rolex took it in, but didn't act like the others, he didn't want to appear like a gawker. Having warmed up on the warm-up field, they quickly lined up at the center line sang the national anthem then dispersed into their positions, while the rest jogged over to the bench. Rolex bounced on his toes once more, keeping his muscles from seizing up, despite being in a stadium with the winds being blocked, it was still cold. As the ref walked onto the field in his black and white garb, Rolex couldn't help but grin, twelve years old and being treated like an all-star athlete, the only thing missing were the Scouts - those would be at the state championships.  
The two flags-men strutted over to the edge of the field and waved their bright flags signaling that they were ready, then the ref called down to the goalies and asked if they were ready, they all were ready. Feeling his nervousness take a plunge down into his stomach, Rolex took a deep breath, hoping to steady his nerves. This was crazy. The sense grew worse when he noted out of the corner of his eye some of the opposing teams from other pools file in to fill in rows of seating. Grimacing, Rolex quickly thought of the older plays they used to start a game, he didn't want other teams seeing how they began.  
He jogged from his center midfield position to where Tony and Craig were waiting for the starting whistle. He wrapped an arm around both Tony and Craig, the only time that either of the boys accepted contact from Rolex, but the important thing was said. For each play, they'd come up with a different action to determine which would be used. Now the entire team knew.  
Whistle sounded and the ball was tapped forward with a quick pass back to Rolex. Taking it forward a few steps to draw his check towards him, Rolex then tapped it over to the waiting right mid for a square pass, everything went like clockwork. That had been the goal for Coach Jim and he'd succeeded, finally drilling into the young minds the importance of passing and not hogging the ball for self-gaining. They worked as a single mind.  
It wasn't long after that they got a quick goal, an incredible play. With all the confusion in front of the net, Tony had just barely been able snag the ball from a defender and tap it back to Rolex who sent it through a hard arc for the top right corner.  
After the third goal, the game deteriorated, the Tornado's lost all heart, Rolex on the other hand, couldn't have felt more exhilarated, and he'd just scored all three goals - his first hat trick. But his spirits were quickly dashed and soon joined those of the Tornado's, when he began to hear to faint chants of the teams watching from above.  
".Bays United sucks!"  
".the Bays won't stays in the game."  
Rolex forced the taunts to the back of his mind, blocking out everything except for the game at hand, and encouraged the others to do so when he noticed them faltering. He kept on reminded them that the others were afraid to face them, hence the reason for their shouts.  
Rolex was on a break away, carrying the ball from well behind center to beyond. All that was before him was the goalie, who was uncertainly coming out to block the oncoming force. He sensed somebody coming from behind and jumped, he fleetingly saw somebody slide beneath him before his momentum carried him above the defender towards the ball again, but he sensed to late the other defender crashing into him from the side. Still in the air, Rolex felt the oxygen punched out of his lungs as the heavy defender crushed him under his body. Something cracked in the process, both Rolex and the defender could hear it, but he wasn't certain whose bone had been broken.  
The defender rolled off of Rolex and hastily apologized and offered him a hand up since the whistle had been blown. Reaching up, Rolex accepted it and pulled himself up, but he quickly fell to his knees as a blaring pain shot from his ankle up to his head. Almost sarcastically, his mind said to himself, Ok, so it's my bone that broke - great!  
"Ah, Jesus. Are you ok?"  
Gritting his teeth, Rolex shook his head and buried his fists into his eyes.  
Already, Rolex could hear Coach Jim make his way towards Rolex.  
"Rolex! Kiddo, you hurting?"  
Rolling over onto his back, he pounded the field, "No. Just broken." True enough, since as long as he didn't move it didn't hurt.  
A medic rushed onto the field and gently probed Rolex's ankle, then taking off the cleat, sock, and shin guard, they gently lifted him onto a stretcher and brought him off the field. "He's not going to be able to play any more for a few months with the way this is looking. We should get him to the hospital so we can get it into a cast."  
Coach Jim looked worriedly to Rolex to the game on the field and back to Rolex, "I can't leave, but could you get him there?"  
"No, I want to catch the rest of the game. I need to be here."  
The medic and Jim exchanged a look, there wasn't much time left and felt that it wouldn't make that much of a difference. An aircast was in place, that would keep it from jarring and as the medic's hand held scanner had shown, nothing had to be shifted, just healed. "Fine, you can stay, but just say when you're ready to leave."  
Rolex nodded his head and turned to the game, but when you're not on the field, you notice certain things that you can block out when in the game. The first was the new chants coming from the stands.  
".watch out, your time is out."  
"The Watch's battery is dead."  
There was no question of who they were taunting and it made Rolex feel even more despair then ever before. This was the only time where he felt like someone, when his teammates didn't poke fun at him out of respect for his abilities on the field. It only gave him a small thrill that they knew who he was, but that feeling was engulfed by the sinking notion that he'd never fit in. His focus now shifting, to those above, Rolex allowed his anger to simmer, he was sick of being an outcast. He hated it. He thought that the taunts would end once he was off the street, but if possible, they had become worse.  
Fists clenched, Rolex closed his eyes, channeling all his hatred and anger into a single target. Letting his sense stretch above, he could almost visualize the boys chanting gleefully now that their adversary's key player was out. He zoomed in, till he was looking down the row with the seventeen or so boys booing Rolex. He took in each face of the boy who shouted and screamed, he hated them all for singling him out, but he hated their coach even more for letting them do that, for joining in and chuckling. He saw red. Then poof.like a dream, Rolex opened his eyes, his anger spent - silence reigned for a full minute before screams came forth. Confusion filled Rolex and he turned in his position on the stretcher to stand to look behind him, his broken ankle, seemingly not hurting anymore.  
  
He gasped and his eyes opened wide, nothing remained of the row where the watching team had been. Nothing. The seats were gone, part of the cement was gone, but most notably were the people - nothing remained. Oh my god. What have I done?  
  
The medic stared at the smoking place where his own son had been sitting only minutes before. Shock overcame him and he couldn't move, but as fate would have it, his son was momentarily forgotten as he looked down into the equally shocked face of the boy who'd broken his ankle. The boy was standing without aid, a quick glance at the scanner on the aircast showed that the fracture no longer existed. It too, seemed to have vanished without a trace.  
  
Next Week  
  
"That's it! All pencils down and papers flipped over," Mr. Bordeau shouted out. He quickly went up and down the aisles to collect the papers, lest anyone cheat. He of course, picked up Rolex's last and when he reached Rolex's desk he looked down with scorn at the completed paper. "Ah, Rolex the watch. I see you finished your paper. That must have been quite a feat to accomplish, considering you haven't been in class much this week."  
Rolex lifted a brow as he added his paper to the pile in Mr. Bordeau's hands, "Actually, it wasn't that difficult." Then in a more conspiratorial voice he added, "You may want to make the tests a little harder, that really was nothing to look at."  
The kids nearby giggled into their hands, which they quickly quelled when Mr. Bordeau gave them a withering glare. "We shall see how tough the test was once the marks are in, Rolex." He began walking away, then turned around slowly, an evil smirk marking his pocked face, "In fact, why don't we mark this thing right now?" Most of the students groaned in response to this, but Mr. Bordeau ignored this and stated, "I think I'll start with yours, Rolex."  
Rolex shrugged and leaned back in his seat.  
Turning red in the face, Mr. Bordeau stomped back to his desk where he pulled out the answer key and slid it into the computer processor, then he ran the hand held scanner over Rolex's multiple choice answer sheet. Normally a beep would signal an incorrect answer, but not a sound could be heard through the now quiet class. The silence deepened as every single student realized that Rolex had aced his mid-term exam - something that was unheard of until now.  
Mr. Bordeau stood so quickly that many of the kids flinched. "Rolex, I don't know how, but you managed to somehow cheat. I don't care what you say, there's no way anyone can ace that test."  
Rolex felt his anger rise to the occasion, but he refused it to be released and instead clenched his fists until they went white.  
Coming round to face and stare Rolex down, Mr. Bordeau slapped Rolex in the face, "How dare you cheat in my class!?"  
Ok, now was the time to let some anger show. Other than the red blotch on his cheek, Rolex showed no sign of noticing the action. "If you ever say I cheated or touch me again, I swear to god that I will be the one to put you into your grave. I have my own set of beliefs, cheating isn't on that list - I know that you hate me, despise me. And frankly, those are my exact feelings towards you. You set me up at every corner possible, always giving me a 'way to cheat'. Picking my paper up last, turning your back on me so that I can 'copy' from someone else. You make me look bad by making me stand out for my faults, faults that every other kid here has. 'Tuck your shirt in, straighten your sweater, tie your shoes.' as you well know, the list continues." His voice rose with every word, "You didn't even tell me about this goddamned exam! You just can't picture a streeter like me could be acing everything come his way!"  
Mr. Bordeau's colouring deepened to a sickly shade of purple, but despite his raging colouring, he quietly said to the whispering class, all the while keeping his stormy glare set on Rolex, "Class is dismissed. And have a very Merry Christmas." Rolex didn't move, knowing full well what was coming.  
"Rolex, don't leave just yet, I want a word with you."  
Once everyone had cleared the room, Rolex stood still before his teacher's desk. Mr. Bordeau stonily stared at Rolex, "How did I ever end up with you?"  
Rolex didn't dare answer, aware that anything he said would only further anger his teacher.  
"Look at me while I am speaking to you!" Mr. Bordeau barked out.  
Turning dull eyes towards his teacher, Rolex kept his face blank, void of emotion. He'd already got himself into more trouble than he could get himself out of now.  
Mr. Bordeau sighed forcefully, an act of regretfulness, "I am willing to try to start anew, however, it will mean that you will have to put in two hours of your time every day after school. This of course does mean that you'll have to give up soccer."  
Rolex remained silent.  
"Well?"  
"If you think that I will give up the one I love and that actually gives me pleasure, you are sadly mistaken. Besides, what would I do with two hours of time with you? It's not like I need to study. You and I know full well that I'm getting over one hundred percent in this course."  
It was Mr. Bordeau's turn to shrug, "Cheating only gets you so far, Rolex. Personally, I would think that you'd be eager to get some extra time in to study on your own, now that I know your little secret, you won't be able to cheat anymore. You should be thanking me."  
Rolex gritted his teeth, "I told you don't cheat."  
"So you say. I'm going to make you apologize to the entire school when school starts up again - for cheating."  
"I'd kill you before I ever make another false speech, such as the one today."  
"Then wish me dead."  
"I do." 


End file.
